Bear Fursuits Books 1-4: Bear Fursuits

by Montrose, Isadora

  He came to claim her swollen and panting mouth with his lips wet from her dew. Hannah tasted herself on him as he set his granite hard cock to her opening and pushed into the slippery paradise of her sheath. She tightened her legs around his hips and matched his ardent thrusting with her own. The liquid sound of their joining and the slapping of flesh against flesh was music that she had missed. When she felt the hot gush at her core her womb contracted fiercely to receive his seed and she fell asleep under him.

  He woke before dawn to realize he was crushing Hannah beneath him. His big torso was lying half on her and his thighs pinned hers. Reluctantly he moved away from her. She was too delicate to be his mattress. The moon was a faint white ball against the pale grey sky. He should let his little bear sleep. But after all the barren months without her, he felt rejuvenated, whole, himself again.

  Hannah woke. The mattress was moving. She remembered and turned to her mate. Jack was grinning at her happily. “Good morning,” she whispered huskily.

  “Good morning,” he reached to kiss her but she whisked herself out of bed muttering. In the bathroom she rinsed her mouth and ran despairing fingers through the tangle of dark brown curls she saw in the mirror. Jack met her at the bathroom door and kissed the top of her head.

  “I won’t be a moment.”

  Hannah lay looking at the sun rise over the Kittitas. Something tight inside her had loosened. Was it the fact that he was willing to die for her? Could she be that basic? Yes, she could. A guy who put his life on the line, had to love you even if he never said so.

  Jack came back to the bed still naked, with his face shiny. He had shaved and a blob of foam decorated one earlobe. He held his hands behind his back as he looked at her lying nude in the pale light of morning. His morning erection was poker stiff. He reached for her with his right hand and tugged her to sitting. He knelt before her and took her left hand in his right.

  He brought his hand from behind his back and brought out a little velvet box. He flicked it open with his thumb. A princess-cut diamond dominated a channel ring glinting with many smaller diamonds. The huge diamond winked at her. “Will you wear my ring, my love?” Jack asked.

  “Do you love me?” Hannah asked before she could stop herself.

  “Yup.” He held out the box.

  Hannah said. “You put it on.”

  He slid the ring onto her finger and admired it on her hand. “Beautiful,” he said. But his eyes were on her face.

  Looked like she got hearts and flowers after all, and hot bear sex. Forever.

  Of course her practical nature asserted itself at breakfast. She sat admiring her ring at the table while Jack made scrambled eggs and sausages at the stove.

  “It’s crazy for me to wear a ring that’s would pay my mortgage for a year,” she blurted.

  Jack turned and looked at her. He grinned and turned back to the stove. “Don’t you like it?” he asked lazily.

  “I love it. That’s not the point. It’s beautiful, but it’s way too much to spend on a piece of jewelry.”

  Jack brought plates heaped with eggs and toast and sausage links to the table. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I figure that ring is like a big, old, honking sign saying, ‘She’s mine, hands off!’ Worth every penny.” He shook his head at her nonplussed face and tucked into his breakfast.

  “You could buy a new car for what this ring cost.”

  “Nah, not if it was loaded. Besides my truck was new two years ago, still has a lot of mileage.” He kept eating.

  “Jack, I don’t need a ring this expensive to be happy.”

  He took pity on her. “Honey, eat your breakfast, we’re rich. We’re pretty much timber barons. Now, you are never going to live in a mansion. And you’re never gonna drive a BMW. And our kids are for damn sure going to public school. But my wife is going to have a nice ring, so every time she sees it she can remember who she’s married to. Only way that’s going back is if you want a bigger stone.”

  “But you and your brothers are in the military. You didn’t even go to college. If you’re rich I don’t get it.” She drank coffee.

  “That’s the thing about being rich, you can follow your bliss. Eat up, honey, you’ll need your strength.”

  She ignored him. “And your bliss was enlisting in the Marines?”

  “Uh huh. Sweet cakes, I’m a bear. I wanted adventure when I was eighteen. Needed it like I needed air. Military seemed a place to find it. Turned out I liked the life. But now I want you and a passel of cubs. I’m on Terminal Leave if I want to be.”

  “What are you going to do?” Hannah started on her eggs. “These are good.”

  “It’s the browned butter. My dad wants me to take the lead on a line of pre-fab log houses he wants to start producing, but I don’t see me as a salesman. I figure I’d do better as a contractor, making them up for the buyers.”

  Hannah frowned. “And the Marines prepared you for this how?”

  “Well, I gotta drawer full of ribbons and shiny stuff,” he replied.

  “Jack!”

  “And degrees in civil and mechanical engineering. Been building stuff all over the world for twenty years. See if no one is shooting at your crew, building houses is easy. You done?” He looked at her plate hopefully.

  “These are mine.” Hannah ate faster. “If you had a degree why didn’t you become an officer?”

  “More fun as an NCO. Hannah, we gotta lot of time to make up, and before we’re much older my mom’ll be over here planning a wedding, with your clan on the line arguing nineteen to the dozen. Let’s go.” He took his plate to the sink and started to wash up.

  Hannah kept her seat and worked on her food thoughtfully. Let’s go? Looked like she was going to earn the ring. Time to stand your ground, woman. She held up her mug. “I’d like some more coffee first.”

  <<<<>>>><<<<>>>>

  BEAR POSSIBILITIES

  BEAR FURSUITS

  Book 2

  by

  ISADORA MONTROSE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Welcome to bearmate.com Martha Amanda Brown. Congratulations! We have three new matches for you to review. All profiles will be removed if you have not responded within forty-eight hours of posting.

  Martha scrolled down the profiles of three more bear-shifters, looking to see if any of them ticked her boxes. She had nothing but vile memories of the shifters she had grown up with, and she wanted a decent mate, her future and her dreams demanded it. She had tried dating ordinary men, but had eventually realized that keeping her bear a secret from her husband was a recipe for disaster. That left shifters.

  She had set her preferences so the accompanying photos for each profile were hidden until she hit contact. She was determined to choose with her brains. Number one was an actuary with a sense of humor and a $3 million house with a pool in Marin County. Too far from LA. Long distance relationships were not her idea of stable and promising.

  Two claimed to be a Navy SEAL. Yeah, right. An astonishing number of bears professed to be SEALs, or in SWAT Units, or fire brigades. This had to be her twentieth. It was true that bear-shifters did tend to be over represented in the military, police and fire departments, but high military rank and macho positions usually indicated wannabes.

  This SEAL was thirty-three. He was from Washington State. He enjoyed camping, rock climbing and white water rafting. He was looking for a strong independent woman who wouldn’t mind his frequent deployment. He was ready to marry and looking for a serious-minded woman, who liked cooking, children, and small town life.

  Great, wifey gets to hang in rural Washington with the kiddies, cooking and cleaning, while he deploys. Or drinks beer. Pass.

  A white contractor wanted to meet a SWF with a sense of humor, a good job, and her own home. Martha translated: bigoted, unemployed drywall-hanger seeks woman to support him while he lives rent free. Probably her Menominee blood would disqualify her even if she owned a home. If she was tempted. Which she wasn’t.

&
nbsp; When Martha had paid her expensive registration fee to bearmate.com, she had made a cast iron rule for herself. She had to accept at least one date whenever she had a posting. Otherwise she knew her pickiness would defeat her plan to meet Mr. Right. To say nothing of wasting her hard earned money.

  She reexamined the three postings looking for one she could put up with for long enough to drink a cup of coffee. The SEAL sounded impossible. The actuary lived in another city, plus he was clearly expecting money would compensate for some deficit in personality or personal habits. The bigot was a no go. She clicked the SEAL’s contact button before she could change her mind.

  Captain William Enright was a huge, barrel chested man with a muscular neck as wide as his big jaw. His shoulders were massive and matched his neck. Easy to believe he was a bear, and just as easy to believe he was one hundred percent Alpha male. Any female foolish enough to tie herself to this guy would be signing up for a life time of saluting. So why were her panties soaking wet?

  Enright’s picture showed him in dress uniform. He had made no attempt to soften his rugged features with a smile. His face could have been carved from basalt. It stopped just short of grim. No, it was grim. Medals decorated his broad chest from clavicle to belt line. Whoa. Either he was a major hero, or this was photo shopped.

  Martha composed an email for bearmate.com to send to Capt. Enright. Not wanting to prolong what would surely be the date from hell, she suggested a coffee date on Sunday.

  Will heard the ping that meant he had email. He stopped on his way out the door of his apartment and put down his kit. Could be HQ. He was on call after all. The Navy had sent no email, but bearmate.com had sent him a match.

  He better take a look, he had paid enough for the privilege of registering. He had had to tweak his profile seven times and swap his picture three times, before he stopped getting SEAL groupies. If he wanted a shifter groupie there were lots of bars where you could get your itch scratched. But even when he was a horny kid he had been more particular.

  Now he was ready for a life-mate. He wanted a woman like his mother: strong, confident, with some meat on her bones. He was tired of salad-eating stick insects who thought their scrawny gym muscles indicated they were strong. Muscle, real muscle, lay in flat, supple slabs on bone and occupied serious real estate. Thin women were weaklings who would not be able to bear a litter of shifter cubs. He wanted a vigorous, healthy woman who could stay the course in and out of bed for a lifetime.

  This Martha Brown was a beauty. Even though she had only posted a head and shoulder shot she made him hard. Her glossy dark hair was not quite black. Full lips in a half-smile hinted at sensuality. Her round checks were rosy. Her skin was smooth. She looked demure but sexy. Soft but strong. She was only twenty-four. A bit young for him.

  She was wearing a classic shirtdress in some crisp blue fabric. There wasn’t a speck of cleavage but her magnificent bosom didn’t require cleavage. Her arms filled out the short sleeves and ended in dimpled wrists and competent looking hands. She listed her occupation as bookkeeper. She liked to knit and sew and was a Taekwondo practitioner. Her ideal mate had his own home and a good job. He was considerate, loyal, kind, well-mannered and ready to settle down.

  Well, dang. She was beautiful and she was a walking wet dream, but she wanted some sort of a lapdog not a bear. And she was a city girl. But holy Toledo that was a sweet pair. He was willing to bet her ass was even sweeter. Before he knew it, he was Googling her. Lots of Martha Browns. But he found this Martha’s Facebook account, and her LinkedIn account, and specialcupcakes.com which operated in West LA and claimed a Martha Brown as proprietor and baker.

  Facebook had a head shot. Dark eyes under substantial black brows radiated intelligence. Martha smiled happily at the camera and a dimple showed at the corner of her mouth. There were no photos of her half naked. Will felt let down. Didn’t all the twenty somethings post bikini shots?

  Her LinkedIn profile showed her in a navy blazer and a white blouse with a neat bow. Her curls had been pulled back into a businesslike chignon. The dimple was missing from her pleasant smile. She looked alert and professional even though the three buttons on her navy jacket could not disguise her rack.

  Martha Brown had worked for WestonHancockIngles, the big investment house, for five years. Present position was Grade 4 Bookkeeper in Accounts Receivable. She had graduated from Los Angeles Community College in 2010 with a Certificate in Bookkeeping. She had completed most of the course work for Computer Applications and Office Technology and expected to have her certification by June. There was a long string of awards and commendations from WHI.

  On specialcupcakes.com a cheerful Martha in a pink and white striped apron posed with happy kids and elaborately decorated cupcakes. If the reviews were anything to go by, she had a nice sideline in birthday parties, catering, and in home classes.

  For $500, payable in advance, Martha would provide cupcakes, frosting and decorations and teach up to twenty children how to decorate their own special cakes. And clean up the mess afterward. He had a look at her schedule. She was booked every Saturday for six weeks, and most Sundays as well.

  Will frowned. He needed a mate who would put him at the top of her priorities. Clearly Martha Brown was enterprising and hardworking, but she sounded as busy as he was. This wasn’t the one. He read Martha’s email anyway. She wanted to meet this Sunday. No can do, his team deployed to the Middle East on Friday. Lord alone knew when he would get back.

  Scheduled to deploy, Will wrote back. We can meet tomorrow, or when I return.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Martha held on to Will’s broad shoulders as he pounded into her for the third time. His chest hair was slick with sweat and his enormous biceps bulged as he used his powerful arms to keep his full weight off her. Her long legs were wound around his narrow hips and her heels pressed hard into his rock hard buttocks. Once again her passage was convulsing around his cock as he shot her into yet another climax. This time he briefly collapsed on her after flooding her core.

  Afterward he lay beside her lazily fondling her breasts and belly. He dropped little kisses on her hair and shoulders. “God, I missed you,” he informed her.

  “I never would have guessed,” she teased. “Are you ready to eat the supper I made for you?”

  “I’m ready to eat all right,” he said as he straddled her satiated body. “Tired, sweetheart?” he crooned as he kissed his way down her abundant flesh to the black triangle at the top of her thighs.

  He nuzzled her black fluff and inhaled. “You smell like all my dreams come true,” he rumbled into her mound as he lifted her big velvety globes to raise her sex to his mouth.

  He kissed her labia and traced each fold with his tongue, lapping up their mingled cream with deep murmurs of pleasure. Martha had been sure she could be roused no more, but Will’s darting tongue and gently applied nibbles soon had her squirming and bucking.

  When he put his lips on her straining bud and sucked and laved she felt the waves of release crash through her. She could barely respond when he pushed his dripping shaft past her swollen, satiated flesh. This time she slept dreamlessly in her lover’s arms.

  She woke to find Will eating her roast pork dinner as a sandwich. He had sliced a baguette and added the crisp romaine and bacon from the undressed Caesar salad, and gobs of her chunky applesauce, to thick slices of her succulent pork loin. He grinned at her and handed her a smaller version. “Gotta keep our strength up.”

  She went to work on Monday a happy woman but it took real effort to walk normally. Her sensitive inner tissues throbbed and her muscles ached. A thick layer of foundation masked the beard rash on her cheeks and around her mouth. Her heaviest tights covered the purple love bite behind her left knee.

  Really the man was such an animal. She had to keep a scarf wound around her neck even though her sweater had a high neck. Which was a shame, because she would have enjoyed displaying the huge ruby and diamond pendant Will had hung around her neck as h
e kissed her goodbye.

  Martha looked at her shining eyes in the restroom mirror as she touched up her makeup and applied more lipstick to draw attention from her bruised skin. She touched the pendant under her sweater and smoothed the unwrinkled wool of her pinstriped navy skirt. Her heart lurched and her hips gave a voluptuous, remembering roll. She felt powerful and feminine and sexy as hell. No doubt about it, she was in love.

  At lunch, her former supervisor from Accounts Payable slid onto the chair beside hers. Stephanie looked disapprovingly at Martha’s substantial sandwich and carton of milk, as she unpacked her salad and bottled water. She smiled insincerely and asked, “Have you given any more thought to joining the company gym?”

  Martha looked at Stephanie. The other woman forked up lettuce with low fat dressing as if her perpetual regime of deprivation was a sign of moral superiority. Hannah had another delicious bite of roast pork and applesauce and thought about Will. A sensual smile curved her mouth. Stephanie’s thin lips pursed. She tried again, “If you join the Before Work Workout and get your numbers down there’s a bonus.”

  “Mmm.” Martha chewed contentedly. What made Stephanie think her constant suggestions that Hannah was unfit and unhealthy were appropriate? She had launched her intrusive campaign to get Hannah to sign up with the company’s Before Work Workout weeks ago, and lost no opportunity to push her agenda. But nagging was nagging.